The Heart's Badge
by dwennie
Summary: He sometimes wishes he'd been brave enough to stand with her in those moments, but she had always had 10 times the courage he did. That's why her vest said NYPD and his said Writer. Oneshot.


**Italics are flashbacks, but I think you'll probably be able to guess that.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

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><p>He's with her when it happens.<p>

He doesn't remember why they were there, but he remembers he should have been with her. He sometimes wishes he'd been brave enough to stand with her in those moments, but she had always had 10 times the courage he did.

That's why her vest said NYPD and his said Writer.

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><p><em>She goes in first, like always. Except this time, it isn't like always. He hangs back near the sidewalk, but he's close enough to hear the ominous, rapid beeping when she forces the door open.<em>

_"Kate!"_

_She reacts with the speed of a trained professional, but when they hear the blast they both know she's not out of range yet. Their eyes lock._

_In nanoseconds, shock, fear, panic flash through her eyes. Then acceptance, resignation, sadness, regret. A small smile flits across her face. It tells him so many things she never got to say. Thank you. I'm sorry. I wish we had more time._

_I love you. I love you._

_Then the flames engulf her, and she's gone._

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><p>Weeks pass in a haze. He doesn't eat. He doesn't sleep. Every time he tries, he sees her, and the guilt is too much. He remembers speaking at her funeral, reading off a slip of paper with his daughter's handwriting on it. He hadn't been able to write her a eulogy. His gift with words hadn't been enough to help her then, so what use were they now?<p>

He'd almost forgotten that he can't control fortune like he controls his books.

Kate's father knocks on his door days later, carrying a mid-sized box. Richard opens the door, and Jim Beckett sees a shell of a man in front of him. He's lost weight, and his eyes have a wild, haunted look about them.

Jim clears his throat, suddenly unsure of himself. "I think she'd want you to have them," he says, and deposits the box in Richard's arms.

Jim opens his mouth, finds he has no words of comfort (or of anything else, for that matter), and briskly walks away, lump growing in his throat.

Rick opens the box without bothering to close his door. His books. The topmost one was signed by him, years ago. He remembers that day. He never knew just how much she looked at that page until now. The ink has faded slightly and the page is unusually thin at the corner.

He puts the books away and doesn't look at them again.

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><p><em>The girl in front of him is young, pretty. But she's not like his other fans. She looks like now that she's finally here, she's not sure why she came anymore. Her hair is longer than it will be when they next meet, and she's less comfortable in her skin. Her eyes are wary, but he still sees the fire in them. She piques his interest.<em>

_"What's your name?" he asks, turning on his characteristic charm. And signature grin._

_She looks at him skeptically. "Kate."_

_He's about to write something cheesy about her looks when she blurts out, "Thank you."_

_It's a loaded statement, and he feels obligated to ask "What for?"_

_He's genuinely curious, though._

_The statement appears ripped from her very soul, and even though she might want to take it back, she knows she can't now. "Your books...helped me through a tough time," she says, refusing to meet his gaze._

_Her words touch something inside him, so with instead he writes,_

_To Kate,_

_Stay strong and carry on._

_Your friend,_

_Richard Castle_

_It's not his best work, but it's heartfelt, and when Kate reads it she smiles. It's a sad sort of smile, the kind that knows that the world is a bitter place and fairytales don't really come true, but it's a smile nonetheless and she looks beautiful._

_It doesn't take him long to recognize her when they meet again, but he keeps that information to himself._

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><p>He tries to go back to work, but soon he gives up. Ryan and Esposito are as subdued as he is, and the new lead detective just doesn't fit. He goes for a week, then every couple days, and then not at all. They don't call him. The memories are too painful.<p>

Alexis takes it hard. Sometimes, he can hear her crying late at night. He hadn't expected such a reaction from her, but Martha tells him that she and Kate had been very close. It breaks what's left of his heart because it's not just a friend Alexis has lost, but part of her father as well. He doesn't know how to deal with it, and he knows that he should be up there offering comfort and support. But he can't, he just can't. He sits there, silent and shellshocked as always, and Martha goes to Alexis.

Since when was Martha the adult of the house?

It's not long before Rick needs an escape, and three months and 4 days after Kate's death, he heads to the bar and drinks himself into a stupor. But it's not enough, so he finds the only girl there that looks like she needs to escape as much as he does. When he gets home, alcohol and perfume clinging to his clothes, he's still drunk out of his mind. And he sees her, standing in the middle of the kitchen.

"Oh, Rick," she says, her disappointment burning him like fire.

"You're dead," he says, stupidly.

"I am, but you're not," she says, and even in his intoxicated state he knows she's telling him to get a goddamn grip.

"Sometimes I think...I wish I was."

"Don't," she says sharply, and the old fire is back in her eyes. "People here need you."

"_I_ need _you_," he almost whines. His heart aches.

She starts to fade, like a disappearing ghost.

"You'll learn not to," she says, and there's infinite sadness in her voice now. "It's the way of the world, Rick."

"Kate," he begs softly, tears sliding down his face for the first time since her death, "please don't go."

Barely visible, she smiles at him, and it's that same smile from the bookstore years ago. "I won't ever go, not really. I'll always be a part of you," she sighs, and she's gone.

He wakes up to a tear stained pillow and the hangover of the century. He doesn't know if she was a hallucination or not. He doesn't _want_ to know.

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><p><em>"What do you do when you get a bad case?" he asks.<em>

_He's been working with her for 8 months now._

_She doesn't answer right away, so he presses, "Do you go to the bar? Seek human contact?"_

_"No," she snaps, and he remembers the significance of her watch, and feels incredibly stupid for suggesting such a thing._

_He catches her eye, and after a moment hers soften, and he knows he's forgiven, for now._

_"I hit punching bags," she says slowly. "I run. I take a bubble bath. Sometimes all three."_

_It's a mark of the seriousness of the conversation when he doesn't make a lewd comment about her and a bathtub. She notices, and she's grateful._

_"Is that enough?" he asks._

_"Usually."_

_"And when it's not?"_

_She doesn't answer, but her knuckles whiten on the steering wheel. For once, he doesn't push her._

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><p>When he comes to his senses, he's disgusted with himself. He signs up for a support group that day.<p>

He doesn't know what to expect when he walks in the door a week later. He knows he's recognized by some when he walks in, but thankfully, no one treats him differently. A girl, most likely in her late teens, is reading one of his books. She doesn't notice him, and he says nothing, so he simply sits down and wait for the meeting to start. When he looks over a few minutes later, the book is nowhere to be found, and she looks acutely embarrassed.

The meeting starts.

One by one, the people there discuss who they've lost and why they chose to come. Rick listens with interest, and some of the stories he hears make his look like a trip to Disneyland, so he resolves then and there to find a way to pull himself together. Once everyone has shared, they break into pairs and take turns talking until they have nothing left to say. Nobody in the room makes it through with dry eyes. Rick's surprised to learn that he feels better already. He's not healed, not by a long shot. But he's better, and that's a start.

He approaches the girl after the meeting.

"Can I sign your book for you?" he asks, and he suddenly wonders if he seems arrogant.

She blinks up at him in surprise. "Oh. Thank you," she says, reaching for the book.

It's a loaded statement.

On a hunch, he waits for her to say more. He isn't disappointed.

"Your books helped get me through some...stuff," she adds quietly.

"Lindsay, right?" he asks, memories of her clamoring for his attention. He pushes them aside for now. She nods.

He briefly wonders whether he should, and he decides with barely any hesitation.

To Lindsay,

Stay strong and carry on.

Your friend,

Richard Castle

A familiar smile graces her lips when she reads his writing. "Thank you," she says earnestly, and leaves him in the room with his thoughts.

He's unlocking his door when he realizes why her smile was familiar. Kate smiled at him the same way when he signed her book. He thinks he's about to break down then and there, but the mind numbing pain he's come to expect when he thinks of her doesn't come. He smiles, a real smile, for the first time in months.

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><p>A few weeks later, Alexis hugs him, and that's when he knows he's truly gotten better. He cries, she cries, and even Martha cries, and several tissues later they feel closer than they have in a long, long time.<p>

In what feels like no time, it's been a year and Rick has picked up his computer to finish the final Nikki Heat novel. He doesn't kill her like he killed Derek Storm. That would be too final, and too close to the truth if he's honest with himself (which he is more often these days). Nikki Heat will live on in him, just like Kate will. As he types the last sentence, Richard Castle smiles. A smile just like Kate's and Lindsay's.

For a moment, he thinks he smells cherries, but before he can be sure, the scent has gone.

**Fin**

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><p><strong>To set things straight, I adore Kate, but this just sorta happened : Reviews are loved and cherished. Pretty please? :)**


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